


the cost of living is everything

by starsmora



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Denial of Feelings, ETERNAL PAIN, Feelings of Inadequacy, Gamora (Marvel) Dies, Gamora has really intense feelings, Gen, Hurt Gamora (Marvel), I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Loss, Loss of Identity, Loss of Trust, No happy endings, POV Gamora (Marvel), Self-Destruction, What Have I Done, for her it's everything, her pain doesn't end, like really intense feelings, loss of family, missing the guardians, painful, she loses herself, what does it cost to really live?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 02:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17235782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsmora/pseuds/starsmora
Summary: "Did you do it?""Yes""What did it cost?""Everything"This isn't the first time she's had this conversation with him. It's happened many other times, in her dreams and youth. She never quite understood or grasped the concept of the cost. Not until she was forced with no other choice but to acknowledge the cost for herself. The true cost of living her life? Everything...and what was it worth?





	the cost of living is everything

**Author's Note:**

> Hello this is just a really awkward attempt on my part of thinking through Gamora's POV for the length of her life. I hope you all enjoy this piece. Apologies for no happy ending. My first entry for the first prompt of MCUFC: there was an emptiness where his/her soul was. Her emptiness is much more subtle than others and develops over time.

_She was the girl who had hope turned to hopelessness._

For years Gamora grew with the complications of the chasm in her heart without question. She chalked it up simply to being a part of who she was or rather who she was becoming. That’s the thing about being displaced from her home at such a young age...the room for potential was astronomical according to him. It struck her not for the first time how markedly distant her life could’ve been had her parents not been murdered. The darkness first appeared then; a yawning emptiness that at the time had been nothing more than a blot on an otherwise unblemished soul.

That’s always how it started though. A small piece here and a little fragment there. The darkness was nothing more than a leech reporting back to its servant, a being who felt destined for a higher purpose. It was supposed to be a privilege to be spared by the glorious evil. Only the best of the best, the most optimal to the cause would be preserved for survival.

_Why me? Why does it always have to be me?_

That’s not to say there weren’t others like her; in fact, at this stage there was an entire legion built up to serve him. She just didn’t understand why he would call her his favorite. Always _his_ favorite, _his_ daughter. Gamora had been a fool to tag along with his ludicrous ideas and gruesome values. He spared her life for a greater purpose; one that led her to be nothing but a catalyst for his agenda.

There was no reason to fight back in the wake of her parents’ murder. At the time she was only a child, forlorn and lost in the remnants of what once had been a beautiful world. The knowledge of being spared was enough for her to sit in comfortably while experiencing waves of shock. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into back then; what signing onto the cause of Thanos really meant for her. Tired, cold and hungry, all she wanted to do was curl up and feel the salty tears burning her cheeks until she fell asleep.

The excuse back then could have been that she was too innocent to understand. However now as an adult and even knowing better it didn’t seem to make that much of a difference. He could always sense the weak points within her and spent years of his life working to fortify them. It didn’t matter what actions he had to take; she was _his_ , his project. She was his growing prodigy and he didn’t need to justify the means or the ends to the pain he brought her. There would be no consequence too great to risk progress; not even when he began slipping sharpened metal discs beneath her skin.

 

It was those discs now and slivers of silver that caught her eye in the sword's reflection. There was never a price too great for her so-called “father” and yet she still found herself caught in a predicament. There’s a fine line between the precipice of good and evil; Gamora _knew_ she was representative of it. Just like the little switchblade she had been given the day she was taken from her home planet. _Perfectly balanced, as all things should be._

_Except she's not._

_She's not perfectly balanced._

That was the one flaw that Thanos couldn’t seem to strip out of her; her ability to hope. It was always there just lingering beneath the surface, always privy to each and every conversation. It snuck around through the cracks of her mind and heart. Try as she might there wouldn’t be any denying that little spark inside of her. If she worked really hard at it she could forget about it for a while, but it was always there. Always hidden in pursuit of the perfect opportunity.

_To escape. To be free. To be loved. To love._

Would she ever truly know what any of these things were like? Sure, she had a sister but it wasn't as though they were very close. That was partially Gamora’s fault for feeding into her desire to survive. Her survival instincts and fear outweighed the love she had for her sibling but it didn't halt there. In fact her instincts stretched so far out that she began to view the world through a tiny microscope, one in which she was the centerpiece. It wasn't narrow minded to be thinking of only herself in that situation...but still the guilt always nagged at her. She got away with just about everything; _almost_ everything.

 

In time, she had come to find a ragtag group of misfits that branded themselves as the “guardians of the galaxy”. _That_ was hope. Hope for a new life, for freedom from Thanos…it was everything she had ever wanted and more. A _family_ . A sense of belonging. All these things Gamora so desperately craved, so badly wanting to know her place in the universe. Maybe it was with them. Or maybe it was just an excuse to get what she really wanted: to be away from _him_. Of course she tried to persuade her sister to come along but she adamantly refused, instead choosing to go off on her own path. That is what life is about, isn't it? Choosing one's own path.

_So how did my choices lead me here?_

The thought bounces around in her head as she feels the warm, slippery liquid leaking out from beneath her curtain of hair. By now it was getting sticky and matted, but it was the least of her concerns. Which way was up? Which way was down? Her eyes could only detect a slanted view of an elongated shelf of gray rock, her fingers twitching against rough pebbles and debris.

_Is this what it feels like to die?_

_Is it worse to die alone or to die amongst friends?_

She doesn't require an answer for either of her questions because she knows she'll get one soon, judging by the way her breathing has started to hitch. The lovely little implants her “father” had installed failed to repair her already beyond salvageable body. It shouldn't be taking this long for her to die from a fall at that height. From where she was sprawled out on the ground he looked no more than the size of a flea. She shouldn't have reached out with her one hand while falling. Maybe her arm wouldn't be bent at such an awkward angle if she hadn't. It felt like it was twisted around behind her head, her hand completely numb and the fingers entirely unresponsive.

_What's taking so long?_

 

It wasn't that she was in a rush to die but what other options were left for her now? It had to be done to protect Nebula. If there was anyone in the world she owed a debt to it was her sister. Maybe that's why it didn't matter so much to Gamora if protecting her sibling meant the cost of her own life. At least one of them would still be surviving to finish the job, to get revenge on Thanos.

_That was never going to be me._

The same reasons Gamora was Thanos’ proclaimed “favorite child” would be what lead to Nebula outliving her. It was always going to be the end result. There was never going to be an epic battle of two sisters against their intergalactic, overpowering titan. Nebula had the will to survive and the means to do so because of all the years Gamora wasted trying to please him. Nothing either of them could do would ever be enough. Nebula had the drive, the hatred and anger in her heart to sustain an action like killing him.

_But not me._

_I couldn't kill him._

_Even when I thought I killed him, I still cried._

She didn't need anyone to tell her that she was the weak link. It was never about her being better than her sister; it was always about her being a better candidate for a future she ultimately had no part in. The only part she got to play was to advance Thanos’ and his army towards achieving his end goal; to wipe out half of all life. Still, wasn't she supposed to be his favorite daughter? Or perhaps it was just the fact that she was his favorite weapon. She would die alone at the bottom of a frosty cliff, where after she passed her body would become coated by layers of frost and meaninglessness.

 

It was supposed to happen this way, wasn't it? After all the ending seemed so fitting in her mind. Gamora was still conscious enough to know she didn't deserve such an ending to her life but it didn't matter. There was no use fretting over it anymore. The only things she truly had to worry about were her newfound friends and family that she had come to love over the passing years. What would Peter think if he ever were to find her body? Assuming that he ever figured out her last known location at all.

He would probably blame himself, berating himself for not being here next to her. Deep down she didn't want him to be. She wanted her final moments to close out with silence that would last for eternity. If there was one thing Gamora never deserved to have in her life it was the love she got to experience with Peter Quill. That man deserved better from the moment they locked eyes on the first day that they crossed paths. Whatever they had was doomed from the beginning.

So maybe that was it. Her life chalks up to nothing more than one gigantic escape where her death culminates the punch line. She could feel her eyes rolling up into her head, the way her lips were growing colder with the lack of warmth. The circuits inside of her discs and implants were starting to fry and shock her skin, creating the aroma of something burnt. These implants did nothing but prolong the inevitable. As the last sigh of air flooded through her lungs she was thankful, and darkness swallowed her whole.

 

The darkness is comforting, both warm and welcoming. Gamora feels it snaking around her frame and opening itself up for her. It blots out everything else; faint images and memories now having an inky darkness gathering around their edges. Some colors and images rippled before tattering to pieces. Darkness assumes its rightful place within her mind, soothing and easing its plaintive cries for release. It seemed only fair; her story began with darkness and so it would end in it too.

Kind of poetic. _Too poetic._

_Too easy._

Just as easily as the darkness had began to cocoon her memories, the formless shadow stopped and spooled them out in front of her. When she opens her eyes, she finds herself in an otherwise barren landscape. It reminds her briefly of the place she has come from, a place to which she can no longer recall the name. In this place there was no time. No time at all or so it seemed. It also lacked the vigor of life which equally made sense and didn't make sense.

_Didn't I just die?_

 

_Where am I?_

Wherever she ended up she knew it didn't belong to the land of the living. The grass was too long and unkempt. As she walked the long stalks would crunch beneath her feet. They were all dry and dead. A few springy patches of flowers bloomed in the landscape but even these specimens of life seemed droopy, the petals having lost their shine. It felt weird to exist in a world where seemingly nobody else existed in.

Is it possible that even after all she endured life was still punishing her for the choices she made? What did she do to deserve this? It was a redundant and stupid question to be asking herself. Gamora knew why she would end up in such a barren, abandoned region. It wasn't a secret to her. All the years of lying, the many times of deceit, the hiding...it was all catching up to her now.

 

It wasn't death that Gamora had ever been afraid of. Many times she stared death in the face waiting for it to strike her down. There were almost too many situations where she should've died but someone had always been there to be her anchor. Someone was always there to root her in the confinements of reality. No matter where she went there had always been someone there for her.

This place has nothing and no one. A wasteland of an existence chalked up to a life full of nothingness. It was almost like looking at the same blank sheet of paper duplicating itself over and over again. The place was both familiar and unfamiliar. It made her heart clench deep in the cavity of her chest.

_Alone._

_I am alone._

_I have always been alone._

 

Back when she had still been alive that feeling of loneliness was so achingly palpable it followed her wherever she went. She could theoretically escape Thanos, escape the wrath of her sister, escape the haunting memories of her past...but not the sensation of being utterly alone in the world. It shot through her heart like a searing hot flash of unfiltered pain. In her mind she could envision both her father and sister laughing at her. That's what the loneliness caused; the debilitating idea that she was so vile a being not even her sister loved her. It was a shame that it took her having to die to know her sister cared for her at all in the same way that she did for her.

The loneliness came from a rotting place deep within her heart. When it came down to it Gamora felt lonely but it wasn't because others didn't love or care for her. Quill had loved her with everything in him. Nebula had loved her too for what it was worth as both a sister and friend. Rocket didn't say it in as many words but he expressed his unwavering affection for her by falling asleep curled up near the foot of her bed. Those were just a few scenarios and examples of how she knew others loved her...but was it ever really enough? Her heart had always wanted more.

_It's true when they say that misery loves company._

 

That was the thing. This place was...deserted. An ancient relic that had been otherwise forgotten. A place with all of its resources exhausted and yet it still managed to sustain some semblance of life, upon further inspection as presses through a patch of grass to see the back of a child and a creature next to her. She recognizes the small critter to be a dog. Its tail created little indentations on the surface of the grass when it repeatedly struck the earth. The dog's tongue hangs lazily out of its slack jawed mouth, falling off to one side and flicking up and down. The child looks like one from her home world. Her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail. One hand is resting on top of the dog's head.

_Is it possible that I'm not alone?_

_Maybe I've never been alone._

 

Gamora steps forward eagerly to reach one hand out and tap the child’s shoulder. It has been so long since she has seen another Zehoberei. She was the last of her kind left; and with a pang she realized that now there were no Zehoberei left in the real world. That place was a place of a past she couldn't quite remember. This place was one of the future. Her hand reaches out towards the child who is looking off at something too far out in the distance for Gamora to notice. She’s too focused on trying to attract the attention of the dog or the little girl. Just to get the confirmation that in this world she wasn't alone.

A shudder ripples across her spine.

Her hand goes straight through the little girl's shoulder. She tries again to tap the child's shoulder and watches as her hand melts through the skin. It simply phases through as though it were nothing. A panic grips at her chest and she circles around to face the child before waving her arms up and down. The child shows no recognition of seeing Gamora. The dog moves for a brief moment to bark several times before running straight through her as did the child.

This was worse than being alone.

This was _torture_.

 _How_ _does_ _it_ _feel_ _to_ _live_ _in_ _a_ _world_ _where_ _one_ _can_ _see_ _all_ _and_ _yet_ _be_ _seen_ _by_ _none?_

 

Why did she have to end up in this place that was more like a personal hell? It didn't matter how many bystanders or passerbys she shouted at or yelled at. None of them saw her. In the patch of grass where the dog had been sitting, a torn collar remained with a dog tag inscribed with the name “Max”. When she bends down to touch it she's surprised that it feels real, substantial and life-like. She can pick up the broken fabric and hold it between her fingers.

So this is where she ends up finding herself. It is a land of the forgotten. A place where those who want to be found go or in her case a place that becomes a personalized hell after death. What was her purpose here? The little girl and dog had now disappeared beyond the hills. She wonders if she will ever get to see what exists beyond those hills someday and what the cost will be to do so.

 

That was the truth-there was always a catch to these kinds of things. Gamora had lived with Thanos long enough to know that much. Nothing in life or life after death ever came for free. Or was this more like a limbo state? Doesn't matter what it is anymore. For now she finds herself stuck here, restricted to the same patch of grass overlooking the same orange stained glass sky. In this place the sun never has to rise or to set. It just stays hanging in the sky like a fiery pit of despair, the same pit that Gamora feels burning in her stomach.

The forgetfulness came after what may have only been a few days in this hidden world, or maybe it was longer than that. With no real changes in the weather or direction of the sun there was no way to tell what day it was. The day started whenever Gamora would wake and it ended whenever she fell asleep. Maybe it stemmed from the overwhelming growth of loneliness where her soul was. It hurt too much to exist in a universe where nobody else could see her. She was a ghost to anyone and everyone who passed through her.

That's truly what she always feared: being alone. Alone and lost. Now she was both. She got around to calling her new “home” as it were something similar to a lost and found; it was a place for the junk others wanted to forget. She was nothing but _garbage._

_Junk._

_Waste of space._

 

It felt like such a cruel joke to think of how Thanos always said...said...what did he always say? She couldn't quite remember, just that between her and some other blue cyborg girl that the cyborg was a waste of parts. Oh how wrong he had been. How very, very wrong. At least the cyborg could still serve a purpose whether to him or to herself. Gamora had nothing and that is ultimately what drives her over the edge.

 

As time passes, she begins to lose more and more of her memories. They slip away from her at random; sometimes while she's awake and other times while she's asleep. They fade in and out of her consciousness like faulty blinking lights. The faces of her newfound family she made back in the real world became muddled and distorted until they were no longer recognizable. Eventually the faces and pictures begin to lose all meaning including their names and the memories associated with them.

One day she wakes up and has no recollection of any detail of her life. All has been forgotten except for what was chosen to be her core memory; knowing that she was Thanos’ daughter. She was Gamora. That was all she knew. It was all that remained but it was all she needed to know. It wasn't as though she could remember anything else about herself.

 

It didn't matter what old memories she used to have or who she used to be. That version of herself no longer existed. Her hands no longer passed through her godslayer or switchblade like they had when she first arrived. She was able to hold them now, life-like and real in her hands. She places the sword down in a patch of grass and smooths it down before flipping the weapon to point towards the hills. The only item she intends to carry with her going forward is the switchblade, associated with her only memory of being Thanos’ favorite daughter.

 

_I am Gamora._

_Daughter of Thanos, the mad Titan._

Sometimes he would come to visit, appearing by a strange rock formation surrounded by water. She would always meet him there and each time they would have the same conversation.

_Did you do it?_

**_Yes._ **

_What did it cost?_

 

**_Everything._ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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